


sanctuary

by sunarists



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Happy, M/M, One Big Happy Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunarists/pseuds/sunarists
Summary: sanctum in the morning is beautiful, and living tastes so much sweeter than surviving
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, Echo/Emori (The 100), Gaia/Clarke Griffin, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Raven Reyes, Ryker Desai/Gabriel Santiago | Xavier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiiiii anywho i just.... this has been in my drafts for a month now

Bellamy's a morning person- taking simple pleasure in waking up with emerging red sunlight filtering onto the bed and Murphy's pale skin, casting the house in a warm glow. It's peaceful, when suns are rising and Bellamy is all alone to watch it, Sanctum not quite awake enough to join him. 

The home is on the outskirts of the dome, on a large grassy hill that faces the forest. The rest of their people, along with Diyoza's delinquents, the Children of Gabriel and the citizens of Sanctum reside near the palace, bustling about their own lives without another thought of the occupants of the big white house. They all live peacefully, now, even after the deconstruction of their religion- the people of Sanctum are notoriously good at the art of moving on, and seeing it in practice was unbelievable.

Most mornings, he putters down the stairs quietly, starting the coffeemaker and letting the smell waft through the large kitchen, as well as putting on a pot of the chrysanthemum tea some of them had grown to love so much. Picasso nudges his nose into the crooks of Bellamy's fingers, and the man smiles, petting the golden retriever's soft fur gently.

He'd never seen a real dog before Sanctum, let alone touched one. 

Bellamy drinks his coffee alone on the porch, clutching it with two hands as the swinging seat gently rocks back and forth, the morning dew glistening on the blades of grass. The windchimes that hang over them tinkle gently in the breeze. The air smells sweet, alive and fresh- he'll never get sick of it, even though he's now blessed enough to breathe it in every day. He thinks he can faintly hear Murphy's snoring from the open window above him- it'll be a while yet before he's downstairs. 

The porch door slides open easily, but Bellamy doesn't even have to look to know it's Clarke, taking her natural seat next to him in her flowing nightgown. She too holds a cup of coffee, and the porch seat creaks under their combined weight. 

"Good morning." Clarke murmurs lowly, blowing at her mug. Her fingers, so used to being stained with dirt or blood or grime, are clean. Her hair shines platinum, absent of dye or mud streaks. 

"Morning." Bellamy replies, patting her knee softly. "Gaia and Madi not awake yet?" 

Clarke smiles, at the thought of her girlfriend, upstairs slumbering in one of the house's abundant amount of rooms. "Madi has school in a few hours- and Gaia should be waking up any minute now. Thanks for making her the tea, by the way." 

He brushes off the gratitude, shaking his head at her. "Clarke, you don't need to thank me every morning. I _like_ making the tea." 

She snorts at that, resting her head on his shoulder. He, in turn, lies his head on top of her blonde waves, smelling like metal and leather and something faintly fruity. They're comfortable, there- Bellamy's glad, to call her his best friend. How far they've come, from _Princess_ and _Rebel King-_ it's nostalgic and bittersweet, to think of the past, but the pain that comes with the memories already fading into a duller ache.

"You're such an old man, with your beard and wool coats." She chuckles. "So domesticated." 

He scoffs at that, but his body vibrates with a suppressed laugh, and soon they're both giggling quietly on the porch while Picasso runs free through the yard, kicking up grass and dirt.

"I like domesticated." He admits. "I like boring. Boring is nice." 

Clarke nods her agreement before standing up, taking his empty cup along with her's back into the kitchen, and he listens patiently as the tap is running. They all used to have to fight tooth and nail for their next meal, and now they have china plates and mugs to eat with. It never ceases to amaze him, the things that he'd once taken for granted becoming something he treasured so dearly. 

Clarke reemerges from the house, but she's not alone- this time. Emori patters out behind her, her black hair held out of her tattooed face by her simple blue bandana, falling over her shoulders pin straight and braided. Her mutated hand remains ungloved, and nobody spares it a glance- it's a part of her, and she won't be shamed for it. She sits in an unoccupied chair next to the swinging seat, sipping on her tea and smiling tiredly at the two of them. 

"Echo kicks in her sleep." She mutters. "I'm bruising." 

Bellamy bites his lip to keep from agreeing out loud, but he nods, looking at Emori sorrowfully. 

Clarke rolls her eyes at her. "After all we've been through, you're going to be taken out by your sleeping girlfriend?" 

Emori bites her lip, but she can't help the smile that creeps onto her face. "It sounds silly when you say it like that. By the way, thanks for making the tea, Bellamy."

He looks at Clarke pointedly before turning to Emori. 

"I _like_ making the tea." He announces proudly. 

"Do you want to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story while you're at it, dad?" She teases, eliciting a surprised laugh from Clarke. Bellamy pouts, wrapping the soft wool of his jumper around him a little tighter, relishing its warmth. 

They sit silently, for a while, enjoying the atmosphere, the only sounds being the musical windchimes, the wind ruffling through the trees and Emori slurping her tea. 

"Monty and Harper would've loved it here." She sighs, tapping her foot against the floor. "They'd be so happy to see something other than _algae."_

They think of their friends sadly, reminiscing about the tough engineer and the sniper. It'd been both a terrible and beautiful thing, when they woke up to the video of them, watching years and years of their life pass by in minutes, the young faces they remembered becoming old and grey. But they were happy, to live together quietly, taking care of their sleeping friends like guardian angels, so they understood. Survival was tiring, and Monty and Harper had so desperately wanted to rest. 

"They would have." Clarke agrees, her voice tinged with sadness. 

Their grief is interrupted as another member of their family joins them- Gaia steps out of the house, already dressed for the day while the rest of them lounged in their housewear. She chooses to sit on the floor in front of Clarke, who's beaming at her, leaning her head back onto her lap and quirking her mouth upwards. Clarke looks down at her adoringly, quickly fluttering down to press a chaste kiss on her mouth. 

"Everything alright?" Gaia asks them all, looking at them concernedly.

Bellamy waves her away quickly, not wanting to worry her. Emori straightens up too, back to delicately enjoying her tea. 

"I'll go up and wake Madi in an hour." Clarke rifles her fingers through Gaia's buzzed blonde hair, unable to keep her hands away. Gaia leans into the touch anyways, nodding her approval of the plan. 

"Thanks for the tea, Bellamy." She nudges his socked foot with her leather boot. 

He grins, confusing her with a overhaul of enthusiasm, opening his mouth and ready to say-

"Don't." Emori says quickly, looking at him warningly. "We get it." 

He looks her directly in the eye, a smirk finding its way onto his mouth while she looks on in fond irritation, sighing into her mug. 

"I _like_ making the tea." 

Gaia looks more and more baffled as the three others around her break into poorly-concealed snickers, but can't seem to help the own smile that graces her features. She looks happy, in this light, not at all the hardened, stiff flamekeeper they'd met over a century ago. 

Octavia and Raven shuffle out of the house at this moment- Raven shrugging on her signature red jacket and adjusting her brace once before standing back up, waving at them cheerfully. 

"Running down to Gabriel's." She explains. "He and Ryker want me to upgrade the motorcycles." 

Her eyes shine with excitement at the idea of another project- one that's not life-threatening or tinged with danger or has lives at stake. Just her, the screwdriver stuck in her ponytail and the oil smears on her face. She glows with it- Raven Reyes and her beautiful mind get to _thrive,_ now, _here,_ with Gabriel to chatter with and Ryker to tinker for.

"I'll join you later." Emori chimes in, and she beams, before turning her attention to Octavia.

"You don't always have to wake up when I do." Raven says to her sheepishly, scratching her head. Octavia's hair is still mussed and pillow lines adorn her cheek, eyes still lidded darkly by sleepiness, but she rolls her eyes at Raven. 

"I _like_ saying goodbye to you in the morning." She harrumphs.

Emori begins to choke on her tea, and Bellamy looks at his sister proudly. 

Octavia pecks Raven on the cheek once before the mechanic sets off, shoving her hands in her pockets and whistling a tune. They all watch the bounce in her step as she walks, walks, walks, becoming a little speck in the distance of Sanctum. 

Octavia sits in an empty chair, wrapping the soft blanket she'd brought down from her bedroom around her like a cocoon. She's relaxed, the once ever-present tension in her tattooed shoulders all but faded. She no longer wears warpaint, because no longer are there wars, and Bellamy is satisfied, seeing the sister he'd raised under the floor finding herself once again. 

"Sleep well?" He asks her softly, away from the prying ears of their company. She nods, a faint smile playing at her lips, her eyes still gazing at the path Raven had taken to the centre of the settlement. 

"You?" Octavia responds. 

"As well as I could- you know how Murphy snores." Bellamy sighs, but there's a playful lilt in his tone.

He'd sacrifice all the sleep in the world if it meant being able to lie down with the younger man in his arms, safe and sound right where he could see him. 

"I resent that." 

A raspy voice, croaky with sleep pipes up from the door. Murphy leans against the doorway, looking over his mug of coffee pointedly at Bellamy. Emori snickers at Bellamy's stricken expression before taking pity on him. 

"John, you _do_ snore." She notes. He pouts, glaring at them both with narrowed eyes, pupils flicking between the two of them as they watch on innocently. 

"You're no longer my favourite ex." Murphy sniffs, turning his nose up at her. 

Emori looks at him blankly. 

"John." She says exasperatedly. "I'm your _only_ ex." 

"Let's keep it that way." Bellamy cuts in quickly, beckoning Murphy over. The man scowls, scratching his stubble thoughtfully before finally joining Gaia on the floor and leaning against Bellamy's legs. 

"That was sweet." Murphy throws his head back and looks at him wryly. "But I won't forget the snoring comment." 

Bellamy only needs to look at him with sad eyes once before Murphy's placing a hand behind his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He tastes like coffee and spearmint toothpaste and Bellamy can't help but smile onto Murphy's mouth. 

"Murphy's soft." Octavia complains, wrinkling her nose at the public display of affection by her brother. "He and Bellamy used to try and kill each other for fun- never was a boring day on Earth." 

Murphy cocks his head at her, grinning nastily. "What, you've never heard of sexual tension?" 

"Kinky." Clarke sniggers, and Gaia flicks her in the knee, her face twisted uncomfortably as she tries to keep a straight face.

Emori, for the second time this morning, splutters on her tea. 

"Yuck." Octavia grimaces. "I didn't need to hear that." 

Murphy raises his open hand up without looking at Bellamy, and the older man slaps it soundly, blowing a raspberry at his little sister. She opens her mouth to retort, but their attention is pried away by the entrance of Echo, who tumbles out of the house yawning. She rubs her eyes thoroughly before blinking at them. 

"Ah." She says dumbly. "Good morning." 

Emori bounds up to greet her, combing her fingers through Echo's knotted hair gently. The taller woman melts into the touch, her eyes fluttering. 

"Emori says you kick in your sleep." Clarke pipes up, grinning at Emori's affronted glare devilishly. Echo looks at Emori with pursed lips, but allows an enthusiastic hug anyways. Bellamy looks at them fondly, his own hands finding Murphy's hair and carding through the short cut, prickly against calloused fingers. 

"It's okay Echo." Murphy soothes, looking up at Bellamy with a nasty glare. "They talked about me too." 

Echo ruffles Bellamy's hair aggressively, tugging on a strand and eliciting a yelp from him as she settles herself next to Emori, the porch seat a tight squeeze with the two of them. Clarke giggles into her hand, her posture relaxed and carefree. Bellamy's glad to see her so calm. She's worked enough to last lifetimes. They don't need to be tired anymore. 

And they all sit under the morning sun, the city of Sanctum rubbing sleep out of it's eyes. The windchimes lull them into a sense of peace, _real_ peace. 

Bellamy's never appreciated making tea before now. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @505daytime


End file.
